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Conversations
a day of grieving,
1/22/94 one


my father was a good man
gentle kind
never raised his voice

he was an architect

one day i went with him on career day
he put me in front of a drafting table
with paper and crayons

i drew all day

i thought he had
the best job in the world
he could sit and draw all day
he had everything

and he never raised his voice

he died when i was fifteen
of a heart attack

i took classes later in architecture
i wanted to understand
his lovehis passion

i wanted everything

he smoked and ate poorly when he was younger
i guess it caught up to him

he was going through a divorce then
mom wanted it
she never even went to his funeral

they say it was
a heart attack
i say it was
a broken heart

i wish i could have said goodbye


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